


Vir

by icarus_chained



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Drunkenness, Epistolary, Gen, Maudlin, Prophecy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 03:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A letter from Emperor Londo Mollari to Emperor Vir Cotto, written in the last days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vir

Vir.

My friend. Yes. Always, at least for my part.

Perhaps I should address you as what you truly are, though. Or what I am sure you will be, by the time this missive reaches you. Emperor Vir Cotto, of the Centauri, yes? I have not forgotten, my friend. I can never forget that. For amongst the multitude of my sins forever etched in memory, that thought is the only thing that gives me the hope that sustains me through these last days. So I call you friend, and hope it is true.

Ah, my friend. I am maudlin, a drunkard. This thing, it cannot hold its liquer, you know. Not like I can. I can hold this much and more, rivers, lakes! Ha! My freedom, my planet, the Republic ... they may take all this from me, but in a drinking contest I cannot lose! I never lose. Unless our dear Mr Garibaldi was playing, and that rarely. But I do not wish to speak of that. Of those days.

It is not that time.

No. That time has passed, and now is the time of dying, of rebirth, of passing on. Now is not the time to speak of what once was, but of what will be. It is time to speak of prophecy, my absent friend, and a future in which I have no place.

The future ... it is a strange and terrible place, my friend. Never so terrible as what has gone before, but fearsome nonetheless. Terrifying. And for you, when you read this ... You are so confident now, my friend, compared to what you were, but still it must frighten you. Compared to the snivelling creature that became my assistant, though, the man you have become can stand beneath it. Compared to my 'moonfaced assassin of joy'. Ha! Ah me, my friend. You know, I fancy that in all my career as Ambassador and member of the Centauri court, in all that time spent lying and manipulating those around me, in all that, I do not think I have ever told a greater lie than that. Assassin of joy.

Vir. In this hour, as Centauri Prime burns around me, there are only two faces in my mind's eyes, and both of them fill me with nothing but a joy so fierce and terrible that I cannot see for the tears. The last two friends left to me, and those that will destroy what I have wrought and carry my people beyond it.

You know the humans, they call prophecy a gift? They are so naive, still. A Centauri, his death clear behind his eyes from the moment he is born, a Centauri who knows the truth of prophecy, he is not so sure, yes? A gift, of your own death? Hah! But. But. Perhaps the humans are more right than they know. Perhaps there is a kind of childish clarity in the way they see, the blind courage of it, that speaks even to we old warriors who have nothing left but that death. In my youth, I know, my wild heart loved that dream, to die killing a Narn. My dream.

I was a fool. But you know that. You always have. My Vir. You always knew.

Prophecy is a gift, Vir. The Gods, they tell us to live our lives as if every moment is our last, to laugh at death, to love to our last breath, to celebrate every tragedy that befalls us. That is what a true Centauri believes, that is what he does, what he sees. No matter the sorrow, no matter the pain, no matter the cost, the Centauri dies in the arms of his enemy, laughing. That is what I believed. But for so many years, now, I have not laughed. Drowned and trapped, held captive as I watch my people die, the Republic destroyed ... it is a time not made for laughter, I had thought. I was wrong.

I am laughing now, Vir. My friend. My Emperor. I am laughing as my death approaches, as I set the last game in motion. Because the Gods gave us the gift of prophecy. Because they sent me an enemy to be my friend, and to die in killing me. My death dream. A Narn, to save Centauri. Hah! Can you feel the _irony_ , my friend? The comedy divine? It is positively thunderous! We two, we foes, we friends ... I can truly think of no better end.

That prophecy, it gives me joy. Even here, sitting withered and drunk, scrawling on a page for a man I shall never see again. I feel joy, and I laugh, and the thing that sleeps at my side cannot even sense its fate. I should go laughing to my Maker, on that alone. But that joy, it is for me, and only me, and though I should laugh for myself, I should weep for my people, for the death of the Centauri. I should weep, were it not for one thing. Were it not for the words of a great prophetess, spoken so many years ago, and the knowledge of what is to come.

Prophecy is a gift, though we do not see it until the end, until all our foolish illusions have been stripped away and only the truth remains. Hate, mistrust, fear, suspicion ... all these we felt and more, you and I. When she told us that we would be Emperors, one to succeed the other. Succession ... it is such a messy business, usually, yes?

Sometimes, Vir, I truly wonder how I could once have been so blind. How I could have trusted you so little, or ever wished you harm. Though, I will admit now that perhaps it is the crueler thing to feel joy in the thought of your succession. It will not be easy, my friend. Not at all. You will be tested by this office as nothing has ever tested you before, and I promise you, knowing you as I do, knowing the softness of your heart, you will weep before your reign is through. Weep for us, and all we have become. You will weep an Emperor's tears, my friend, and the Gods will smile on you for it.

But it is a joy, to me. That thought. More. More than joy. It is hope, to me. That prophecy, that gift. The strongest, purest hope I have ever felt. I am a cynic, my friend, and life has taught me so often that hope is a fragile, foolish thing. But for you, to hope for you, to believe in you ... somehow, I do not believe that is so very foolish of me. My eyes see clearer now than they ever have. They see what you saw, years ago. Before Morden. Before Narn. Before any of it.

You saw something in the Centauri people that none of us had hope left for. You saw something that we could become that war had driven out of us, or so I thought. Foolish, I said. Weak. All these things I thought of you. I had not seen, yet. I had not seen you pick up a kutari. I had not seen you wave goodbye to Mr Morden. I had not seen you smuggle Narn to freedom. I had not seen you go underground, to fight me, to fight everything Centauri has become. I had not seen.

I see now. Not just all that is, but all that will be. My death, it is such a little thing. But it will start something so much greater. I am a little man, a foolish drunk, a puppet Emperor. A place-keeper, for someone so much greater.

For you.

I have taught you very little, in our time together, I think. Very little, and much that in your heart you knew was wrong from the start. The same innocent, courageous wisdom of the humans. But there are some things that I hope you might have learned, if only for when I did not show them.

Vir. Emperor Vir Cotto. You are Centauri, the prophecied Emperor. You are the hope that a great seeress saw for our people. You are the gift the Gods gave as prophecy. You are our future, our hope. You have laughed at death, and mourned with honesty, and smiled in the darkest of times, as a true Centauri should. You have found courage in the blackest days, compassion in the cruelest, and hope where there should be none. My friend. You fought for me, and never was there such a lost cause! After that, fighting for our people must surely be easier, yes?

You are Centauri, Vir Cotto! You are Emperor! And you _will_ save us. And every mistake I have made, every blind and foolish thing I have allowed happen ... it will be worth it, Vir. For you. I know that. I believe it.

There is so much more I want to say, my friend, but my time is so very short. Ticking away, drop by drop, and my hands shake so badly now. Not long, my oldest friend. Not long until your succession, until I and all I represent can stand aside for what comes after. For you. And though I fancy it is terribly rude of me, terribly inappropriate, I wonder still ... if I may make a request, my Emperor?

G'Kar. When we are found, after the end ... Centauri are proud, and vengeful, my friend. Please. Do not let them abuse him in death. There was too much of that in life, and too much for my sake. Do not let it happen again.

And Timov, and my house. See that they are well cared for, if you can. Though, if I may suggest, it would perhaps be wise to allow Timov to see to most of it herself. That way, your ears shall not bleed so much, yes?

Ah! No. I must go. I must go, Vir.

Remember this. If you remember nothing else about me, if you should hate me, if you should tear my record from the annals ... remember this. I count you as my friend, Vir Cotto. I count you as a man far greater than I could ever have been. I have been honoured to know you, to learn from you, to have ever been served by you. I believe in you, in the future you will bring. I trust you, with everything I have ever loved.

I love you. As friend, as brother, as comrade, as son. As Centauri.

May the Gods smile on you, Vir Cotto. After everything we have suffered, it is the least they can do!

Londo Mollari.


End file.
